


Swaying to the Music

by sushisama



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Humanstuck, M/M, NSFW, PWP, Stripper!Kurloz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-25
Updated: 2013-03-25
Packaged: 2017-12-06 10:00:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/734404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sushisama/pseuds/sushisama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rufioh begrudgingly gets dragged to a bachlorette party for Feferi.  It isn't long before he's had enough and attempts to leave, until the male stripper catches his eye.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Swaying to the Music

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this when I was on a Bonebrothers kick. Yaya for PWP, right?

 

Your name is Rufioh Nitram, and you've decided that you never want to attend a bachlorette party again.

You've been sitting on one of the hotel suite's couches for the past couple of hours in a room full of giggling girls, sipping on probably your fifth cosmopolitan (really, can't they have something a bit stronger). You weren't even sure why you were here, other than Damara dragging you along, excitedly telling you what was happening, which you only caught snippets of from your limited knowledge of Japanese. You didn't even know Meenah's little sister was getting married, but they were exceptionally okay with you hanging out with them as they gossiped, played odd games, and were genuinely very girly.

You were going to kill whichever one of them decided you were 'one of the girls.'

You gave it a good try, having an enjoyable time. The first couple of hours were fine, Meenah and Porrim were always good company for you (despite your green-eyed friend hitting on you, even knowing she'd never get anywhere). But as the night went on and the liquor flowed more freely, Meenah left your side for Aranea and Porrim was flitting across the room, dropping in on different conversations.

As the night went on, you were starting to get drained from the lack of testosterone, and you thought to just leave. All the talk of Feferi's upcoming wedding, and everyone else mentioning their good relationships, was making you sulky and lonely. It had been a couple of months since your break-up with Horrus, and though it had been you that initiated the separation, you didn't still get antsy for some human contact. You had been rather unsuccessful in finding someone new, and listening to Meenah tell stories about her vacation with Aranea was getting on your last lonesome nerve.

But when you were on your way to sneaking out of the suite, Damara and Latula pulled you back, promising you'd want to stay for just a few more hours. You rolled your eyes at their insistence, but took your seat on the end of the couch, waiting for whatever they thought was worth you staying for.

You weren't paying attention when there was a knock at the suite door, too focused on your quickly vanishing drink. Too in your mind and how to sneak out, you didn't notice when Kanaya and Rose welcomed someone in, and the other girls started to giggle madly. You finally looked up when Feferi made some weird squeal, her face in her hands as she spouted some odd embarrassed noises. Meenah and Aradia moved some furniture around, making a large open space in the middle of all the couches.

"What's going on?" you ask Porrim as she sits next to you.

She grins at you. "What do you think? It's a bachlorette party."

You raise an eyebrow, not sure what she means by that, but the lights dimming and music starting had her turning around. All of the women have their attention to the middle of the room, and when one of the bedroom doors opens, they start cheering. You follow their eyes, and as the music picks up speed, a man steps out wearing an oddly tight sailor's outfit. He has curly black hair, dark eyes, and pale skin on his tall frame. He's moving along with the beat, and somehow the stereo has gotten louder as he makes his way into the room, right in the middle of all the women.

So, from what you're now gathering, male strippers are a thing for bachlorette parties. You might have to rethink your opinion of never coming to one again.

The girls are all giggling and raving over the lithe male, even Meenah, Aranea, Rose, and Kanaya are giving him his props, despite not being interested. Terezi is the only one not really excited, but you guess that had to do with her blindness. You, on the other hand, were trying to hide your true appreciation for the well-groomed sight before you. As pretty as he may be, you weren't overly fond of the ideas of strippers. Not that you necessarily had anything against them or the profession, you just didn't much enjoy the cock-teasing.

Though, with your current dry-spell, even just looking seems really appealing.

The guy asks a question to Meenah, at least you think he is when his mouth moves, but it's drowned out by the music. Everyone around Meenah all grin and point at Feferi, and the dancer is quick to turn his attention on the bride-to-be. With encouraging cheers from all their shrill voices, he started dancing exclusively for her. 

You wanted to show disinterest as he started to take of his shirt, after all, he was their for Feferi, but you couldn't keep your eyes away as he slowly removed the article of clothing and threw it at the group of hollering women. When he got down to his fuchsia g-string, you couldn't help but notice the great view you had of his nice, round ass.

As he kept the girls all entertained, gyrating for all of them but focusing mostly on Feferi, you just watched from your corner of the couch, all but drooling. Your pants had started to become painfully tight as he moved seductively around the middle of the room, and you had to steal a couch pillow to hide your blight. There was a part of you really wanting to solve this problem, but with your eyes fastened to the dancer, you couldn't bring yourself to move.

It was when he was well into his third song that all the girls (aside from the ones who weren't particularly fond of men) groped at the loose strings of his thong that you had to slink off, no longer able to contain yourself. You slid off the couch as quietly and inconspicuous as you could, making your way to the master bedroom, as it was the only room in the suite with a private bathroom. You were quick to close the door behind you, only taking a quick glance at the huge bed and all the coats and a couple of bags littered on it, before getting to the other door across the room.

Alone in the large tiled room, you locked yourself in, taking several deep breaths. You weren't normally this bad, you could control a lot of your primal nature, but that was when you were getting some on a regular basis. Being as painfully single as were for the first time in years, you realise how accustomed to getting it whenever you wanted you had become, especially over the past few months. This was the closest to seeing a real dick you had been, and, fuck, if it didn't just make you all sorts of horny. Especially when that cock was attached to a really, really hot ass. Not to mention the rest of him was rather pleasant to look at as well.

With a groan, you realise you aren't helping your southern problem any with an assessment of the dancer's rather well-defined features. You go to the sink, turning on the water long enough to splash some of it on your face, but it doesn't ebb away any of the thoughts. Knowing it would just be painful to leave it alone at this point, you unzip your pants, take hold of your almost full erection, and start to stroke it. 

You're not particularly gentle with yourself as you run your hand quickly and roughly over your prick. All you cared about was getting it done, and hopefully when you were done, the dancer would be finished, and you could dismiss yourself from the party all together for a long at home alone, fantasizing about all the ace you aren't getting.

Several minutes later, and after you've cleaned up the mess that didn't get in the sink, you noticed somewhere in your haze that the music has stopped playing. Thankful your torment would finally end for the evening, you zipped up, washed your hands, and left the bathroom to only momentarily return to the party before heading to your rinky-dink one bedroom apartment.

You were caught a little off guard when you saw the dancer at the bed, adorned in a skeleton appliqued hoodie and applying some kind of thick white make up to his face with the aid of a compact mirror. As the bathroom door clicked close behind you, he looked at you, a little startled, before he focused his dark eyes on you. You both stared at each other for what felt like several moments, he looking confused with his almost clown-like painted face, and you probably with the deer caught in the headlights look all over your face.

"Umm, hi," is all you can seem to get out. 

He just raises an eyebrow, but smiles and waves. He returns his attention to the bed, picking up what you assume is the sailor's outfit from his dance and folding it before stuffing it into a duffel bag. You're a little put off that he doesn't say anything back, and you find yourself scratching the back of your neck out of nervousness.

You never thought it would be weird to talk to a stripper. Then again, the last time you'd been anywhere near a stripper was five years ago when your friends took you to some titty bar, which was the proverbial straw that made you come out just so there would never be a danger of another set of breasts being near your face _ever_ again.

"You danced pretty good, by the way," you try at conversation again. It seemed a less awkward way of telling him his performance had the attended affect on everyone in the room that fancied dicks, including yourself.

He looks up at you again, and he's got this odd smile on his lips, like he's pitying you. You don't get that at all, and you're starting to get a little annoyed that he wasn't saying anything.

"Hey, cat got your tongue?" you say, trying to keep a playful tone.

He makes a weird 'tsk' sound before shoving his hand in the pocket of his hoodie, quick to pull out something. You raise a brow when you realise it's a phone, and he's typing something that only takes a few clicks. He comes up to you, holding up the screen so you can see what he typed, and it's only the word 'mute'.

You stare at the mobile for a few good moments, trying to understand. "You want me to shut up?" you ask, raising a brow. He shakes his head, pointing to his throat then drawing an 'x' in the air. "Oh! You're mute?" He nods. You smile for a moment, happy you got his meaning, but frowned. "Shit, sorry, I didn't mean anything by the cat and tongue comment."

He shakes his head, smiling as he dismisses the offense. He types something else with expert thumbs before holding up the mobile once more.  < _It's all right, happens all the time._ >

You regard him for a moment, but his small smile is rather reassuring, and you find it rather easy to smile back. "So, I guess the girls are done with you, huh?"

He nods, smirking.

"Thought they'd tear you apart," you jest. You hold out a hand, saying, "Rufioh."

He shakes your hand, holding on for just a moment more than you'd expect before he takes his hand back to type, < _Kurloz._ >

"Kurloz, huh?" you say, making sure you got it right, and he nods. You're quiet again, not exactly sure what to say until curiosity gets the better of you. "Can I ask about the face paint?"

He types again. < _It's this thing my family does, weird religious stuff._ > You give him an odd look, so he types out more. < _Kind of cultish, I know. I'm mostly out of it, but my dad and brother are still really into it._ >

"Does your cult allow stripping for horny girls?" you ask jokingly.

Kurloz makes an odd sound, like a very muffled chuckle as he goes back to his phone. < _Surprisingly enough, it allows for a lot of extreme things._ >

You snicker. "That might be true, but I don't know how you stand all the girls going at you."

< _It helps a lot when you're gay._ >

You don't know why you're surprised by that, but for some reason you are. Maybe it was because he seemed so natural with all the women, like he enjoyed it, but you're guessing now it was really easy to act when you weren't really getting anything out of it.

He frowns when you don't say anything back, and he's quick to text, < _That doesn't bother you, does it?_ >

There was nothing further from the truth. You were running through pick up lines in your head, now that you knew this delicious crumpet was up for grabs. Well, he might have a boyfriend, but you'd cross that bridge when you came to it.

"No, not bothered at all," you say with a light grin.

Kurloz looks relieved by the comment. < _I'm glad, you don't know how many times I have to be careful about saying that stuff._ > As you're thinking you know exactly what that's like, he adds, < _I'm surprised you didn't run off, though, I thought you were uncomfortable or something._ >

You were uncomfortable, in a sense, but probably not in the sense he means. "Why would I be?"

It takes him a little longer to type his next message. < _I've just seen a lot of guys in the past get weird, getting dragged to these things by their girlfriends or friends, and they can't handle seeing a guy strip. Something to do with straight pride, whatever it is, but they normally have to leave and find do something 'manly' to feel better._ >

You can't help but burst out laughing at the insinuation. Kurloz raises a brow, confusion all over his face. When the last bit of chuckles leaves you, you answer his unspoken question: "Sorry, it's just been a really long time since anyone's confused me for straight."

You think you can see a light blush where his make up isn't covering, and he opens his mouth in a slight 'oh.'

There's another silence more awkward than before. He looks away, and you frown as all your pick-up lines leave your mind. When he doesn't immediately look back at you, you have to remind yourself just because he's gay doesn't mean he'd be attracted to you.

With a forced smile and a shrug, you say, "Well, I guess I'll let you get back to getting packed up." You start making your way to the bedroom door, hiding your look of disappointment. "It was nice to me--"

You're stopped by his thin fingers when they wrap around your wrist. You turn back to look at him, and he's staring at you, unsure of himself, the blush a little more evident.

"What is it, Kurloz?"

He hesitates a moment, before he lets go of your hand to type a message before showing you the screen. < _Would you like a private dance?_ >

"Wha--?" You can feel the sight flush on your cheeks, especially at the thought. "Well, you know, that sounds amazing, but I don't have any money or anything."

He looks a little offended, but types something quick. < _For free, idiot._ >

You look from the screen to him, and he's smirking one hell of a sexy smirk. You let a large grin cross your face as you nod, almost too enthusiastically. Kurloz does his weird soft chuckle before he walks past you to lock the bedroom door. When he looks at you again, he gestures to the bed, and you're quick to comply, clearing off the covers of the coats and bags.

As you sit on the edge of the bed, trying to hide your excitement, Kurloz spends a moment on his phone, and when he's done, there's music coming from the small device. He sets it on the nightstand, before coming to stand in front of you. You eye him from top to bottom, noticing how different he looked now from when he was dancing earlier. Before he had that tight sailor's thing, you assume because the Peixes family all were obsessed with the sea. Now he had the skeleton hoodie on, the white make-up that covered almost all his face but his cheeks and eyes, and his pants were real baggie.

You actually found it a lot sexier than the seaman's outfit.

Kurloz starts to dance, swaying his hips to the music. You watched him with hungry eyes as he took the zipper of his jacket, slowly starting to unzip. When he takes it off, he's not quite quick about it, and making a show of it falling off his shoulders. You relax a little more, putting your hands on the mattress and leaning back some as you watch him work on the short sleeved shirt he was wearing. He throws it at you, and you just smirk when it lands on your knee.

He comes closer to you, running a hand through your multi-coloured hair as he gyrates to the beats. He takes a handful of your locks, pulling your face close to his, and a shudder goes through you when his breath goes across your ear. He lets go of your hair as he lowers himself, still swaying to the song, coming back up slowly, flush against your body. He pulls away from you, continuing his dance as he unbuttons his pants, letting them drop to the ground, stepping out of them as he came back to the bed and to you.

Kurloz slides onto the bed, his knees on either side of your legs as he settles into your lap. He continues to dance and gyrate, clothed only in a pair of bikini briefs, and you're sure there's not enough layers of fabric in the world to keep him from feeling how much you were enjoying his dance. As he leans back, showing off his throat, chest, and stomach like an offering at mass, you found the urge to reach out too great to ignore.

"Kurloz," you murmur, and he slowly lowers his half-lidded gaze on you. "May I touch...?"

Kurloz leans in until your chests touch, and he takes your hands from the mattress, placing them on his hips. He only takes a short break to do this, quick to go back to rolling his hips against you. 

Now that he's given you some permission, you hold onto him tightly, kneading into him appreciatively. When he moves one particularly way, you can't help the groan that leaves you, and you buck up against him subconsciously. He makes a low sound in the back of his throat, but doesn't stop you when you do it again. He wraps his arms loosely around your neck, moving his hips side-to-side with a certain guitar rift in the song. He leans in, his forehead against yours, and his eyes closed in concentration.

You don't know why, but touching wasn't good enough, even with you two grinding each other. You tilt your head just enough to lay a soft kiss on his lips. He pulls back, looking you over, a slight amount of surprise in his dark eyes.

"Fuck, sor--"

He interrupts you as he grabs onto your shirt, pulling you close for a rough kiss. You're only confused for a second, but his tongue trying to get into your mouth is certainly enough to bring your full attention to him. You put your arms around his back, holding him close as you open your mouth, your tongue meeting his where your mouths met.

All the while you two kissed passionately, Kurloz was working to get your shirt unbuttoned and off your shoulders. When your shirt was somewhere on the floor, you lower your arm to his backside, rocking against him. He makes a strange squeaking noise when you flip him, getting him underneath you. You start kissing him up and down his neck as he pulls at your hair.

It takes no time at all to get his little bikini briefs off, and he doesn't stop you when you wrap his legs around your hips. Instead, he leans up just a bit, to help you get your pants unzipped, taking your erection in hand, in a much different grip than you had on yourself only a little while ago. He runs his hand up and down your shaft, and you groan at his soft but tight grip.

He's already got himself in position, the head of your dick at his entrance, but you hesitate right before taking the plunge. This was going awfully fast: it wasn't much more than an hour ago you almost left the party, only to be kept back to watch a male stripper, the one that was now laying underneath you, his eyes half-lidded and his mouth slightly parted, silently begging you to get started. You had only gotten his name thirty minutes ago, but when he's pushing against, getting the tip of you inside, you all but stop caring. You needed this, you needed a good lay to finally get you back in the groove, and you were lucky to get this hot guy wanting you.

Maybe he was just as lonely as you.

Kurloz's tight heat brought you back to your senses, and he's already got you half buried inside of him. You decide to throw caution to the wind, keeping an arm around his lower back to help pull him close as you finish sheathing yourself. With your other hand, you grip to the headboard, and start to pull out, only to push back in again. He starts to move against you, taking the same pace as you, meeting you thrust for thrust.

You bury your head into his neck, biting the area hard as you continued to pound into him. He's making these tiny little noises, and they're driving you crazy, even more than any screamer you'd ever been with. It makes you go faster and harder, and he's clawing your back with each silent scream, and it's all getting you closer to your breaking point.

You take his length in hand, stroking it with as much concentration as you could, which wasn't a lot, but seemingly enough for him. His nails are breaking skin, and it takes you a moment to realise his tapping on your back means that he was getting close.

"Kurloz, Kurloz," you murmur into his ear. "I'm going to come, fuck, you're so tight."

He nods against the side of your head, and you tighten your hand on his cock, stroking harder. He pushes against you, hard, as his thighs tighten around you, and you can feel the shudder as his climax overcomes him, spilling over your hand.

You give him a few more thrusts before you pull out, releasing over the bedspread. You're both left panting hard, you collapsed over Kurloz's small frame. He eventually pushes you off and you go without effort, laying on your side next to him.

"Fuck," is all you can say at first. He turns his head to look at you and smiles.

"You need to be anywhere, Kurloz?" you ask.

He shakes his head.

"You want to stay here, and, I don't know... cuddle?" You hope it doesn't sound as needy as it does in your head.

He smirks before nodding, scooting over until he was settled against your side. You wrap your arms around him, and soon you're both asleep, music still floating in the air.

In the morning, it's Aranea waking you up, bitching at you for stealing the master bedroom, while Meenah makes a comment about your pants being undone. You get them out long enough to get dressed and cleaned, slightly disappointed you woke up alone.

It isn't until much later in the day you find the folded up paper in your pants pocket that has a phone number on it, and the words 'Text me - K'.

You don't think you've smiled so large in months.


End file.
